Derpy woke up like he’d been thrown back into his own body.
Air first.
Pain second.
And then—
Wrong.
His wrists hummed.
The bracelets were warm, alive, like they were purring against his pulse.
He tried to sit up.
Something tugged at his shoulders.
A tightness under his shirt.
A pressure that didn’t belong.
Derpy’s breath hitched.
He reached back—fingers shaking—and brushed something that made his stomach drop.
Not fabric.
Not bandage.
Skin.
And a ridge.
A joint.
He froze.
Celica’s voice wasn’t in the room.
But it was in him.
Sooner than you think, partner.
Derpy swallowed hard.
He didn’t look around.
He didn’t check the door.
He didn’t check who was there.
Because if he did, it would be real.
And if it was real, someone would see.
He moved on instinct.
Fast.
Panicked.
He swung his legs off the bed.
The floor creaked.
And in the chair by the wall—curled up like she’d been afraid to blink—Lewd jolted awake.
Red hair mussed.
Green eyes wide.
She’d stayed.
She’d stayed in his room.
Like leaving him alone had never been an option.
“Derpy—?” she whispered.
Derpy’s chest tightened.
He couldn’t answer.
Not with his throat full of fear.
He stumbled to the window.
The latch clicked.
Cold night air slapped his face.
And Derpy jumped.
No plan.
No warning.
Just escape.
Behind him—
A sharp gasp.
Lewd.
She lunged for the window.
A blur of red hair and shaking hands.
She got one foot onto the sill—
And the world snapped shut.
Ice crawled up the frame in a heartbeat.
Not her magic.
Not Vespera’s.
Derpy’s.
A panic reflex.
A spell cast by his body before his mind could catch up.
A sheet of frost sealed the opening like a slammed door.
Lewd hit it with her palms.
The cold bit.
She tried again.
Harder.
“Derpy! Wait! Please—!”
No answer.
Just the night.
Just his shadow disappearing.
Her chest seized.
The room tilted.
Her ears rang.
Lewd slid down the wall, claws scraping uselessly at the ice.
Her breathing turned into little broken pieces.
In.
Out.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
Her mind filled with the same ugly thought over and over.
He’s leaving.
He’s leaving.
He’s leaving.
And the fear wasn’t polite.
It wasn’t reasonable.
It was animal.
It was old.
It was the part of her that had learned—early—that people only stayed until you became inconvenient.
Lewd’s fingers curled around Blight Vein.
The book warmed instantly.
Attentive.
Possessive.
Hungry to be useful.
Lewd’s eyes went wide.
“I— I can’t—”
Her voice cracked.
“I can’t be left again.”
The book pulsed.
Like agreement.
Like permission.
Lewd stood.
Her panic didn’t stop.
It sharpened.
She pressed her forehead to the ice, eyes squeezed shut.
Then she whispered, like a prayer she hated needing:
“Help me find him.”
Blight Vein answered.
Not with words.
With a pull.
A taste in the air.
A trail.
Lewd’s pupils narrowed.
She turned.
And ran.
Downstairs, the inn’s calm died fast.
A crash.
A scream.
Boots on steps.
Lenora was moving before the sound finished.
Vespera was already at her shoulder, rings flaring, eyes sharp.
Riven followed like a shadow that had learned to walk in a straight line.
They hit the lobby together.
Lenora’s gaze snapped to the stairs.
To the frost creeping down the banister.
To the open air leaking cold from above.
“Derpy,” Lenora said.
Vespera’s jaw clenched. “He ran.”
Riven’s head tilted, listening.
Then—
The front door swung open.
Laughter.
Again.
Like a curse repeating.
Raska and her pack spilled in, cocky and loud, eyes bright with the idea of easy prey.
And behind them—
Vemi.
Not laughing.
Not smiling.
Just there, caught in the current.
Raska’s gaze flicked to Lenora’s group.
To the rings.
To the weapons.
To the urgency.
Her voice turned slick. “Well, look at that. Leaving already?”
Kiva cracked her knuckles. “Guess you didn’t like the toll.”
Nessa’s eyes slid over them like she was picking which one would bleed prettiest.
Lenora stepped forward.
“Move,” she said.
Raska barked a laugh. “Or what?”
Vespera’s rings flared, heat and darkness coiling.
Riven’s posture shifted—attention snapping sharp as a blade.
Lenora didn’t answer with words.
She answered with motion.
A step.
A shove.
A punch that landed clean.
The pack exploded into snarls.
Chairs scraped.
Tables slammed.
The inn turned into a cage full of teeth.
Vespera’s magic snapped out—rings spinning, a warning arc of heat that forced two wolves back.
Riven moved wrong—too fast, too smooth—hands catching a wrist, twisting, dislocating with a quiet little pop like she was opening a jar.
Raska howled and lunged.
Lenora met her head-on.
Steel on claw.
Fur on blood.
And somewhere in the chaos, Vemi backed away—eyes wide, hands trembling—like she wanted to stop it but didn’t know how.
Lewd ran through the streets like her lungs were on fire.
She followed the trail Blight Vein fed her.
Not a smell.
Not exactly.
More like a taste in the air.
Cold.
Dragon.
And something sharp—fear.
Derpy’s fear.
She turned a corner too hard.
Nearly slipped.
Kept going.
The town blurred.
The fog thinned.
And then the rooftops gave way to trees.
Whispering Hollows swallowed her.
Branches clawed at her hair.
Roots tried to trip her.
She didn’t stop.
Because stopping meant losing him.
And losing him meant being alone.
Again.
She burst into a clearing.
And there—
Derpy.
He stood still like he’d forgotten how to run.
Head tipped back.
Eyes on the moon.
His hoodie was gone.
Just his shirt.
And it was torn—holes ripped clean through the fabric where small wings pushed out.
A second tear lower down.
A small dragon tail, dark and new, flicking like it didn’t know what to do with itself.
Lewd’s breath caught.
Derpy didn’t turn.
He lifted his hands.
Lewd braced.
For a weapon.
A blade.
A gun.
Something loud.
Something violent.
Instead—
A violin appeared in his grip.
Wood and varnish and impossible detail.
As if the bracelets had remembered every instrument he’d ever seen.
Derpy brought it to his shoulder.
His chin settled.
And his voice came out soft.
“Dragon’s Lullaby.”
Then he played.
The first note was so clean it hurt.
The melody poured into the trees like warm light.
It wasn’t a song for battle.
It was a song for mourning.
For homes you couldn’t go back to.
For bodies that changed without asking.
For the kind of loneliness that didn’t scream.
It just sat with you.
The sound carried.
Through the forest.
Over the town.
Across the hills.
Farther than it should have.
Like the world itself wanted to listen.
In the inn, hands paused mid-swing.
Teeth stopped bared.
Even the wolves hesitated, ears twitching, eyes glassy.
Lenora’s breath caught.
Vespera’s rings slowed.
Riven turned her head, eyes widening like she’d just heard a name she’d been missing.
And in the Castle of Faedurn—
Queen Seraphine sat up like she’d been struck.
Tears slid down her face before she understood why.
Her fingers curled around the arm of her throne.
“What was that,” she whispered.
The note faded.
But the ache stayed.
Riven took one step toward the door.
Toward the music.
Toward the pull.
Vespera caught her wrist.
Firm.
Not cruel.
A reminder.
“Remember,” Vespera said, voice low. “You can’t go rushing off.”
Riven blinked.
Vespera’s grip didn’t loosen.
“Part of having companions,” Vespera continued, “is sticking together.”
Riven stared at her hand on her wrist.
Then nodded.
Slow.
Like she was learning what loyalty felt like.
“Okay,” Riven said. “Together.”
In the clearing, the last note died.
The violin vanished like it had never existed.
Derpy’s shoulders sagged.
Like the song had taken something out of him.
Lewd rushed forward.
She wrapped her arms around him from behind, clinging hard enough to hurt.
“Derpy,” she choked. “What’s going on?”
Derpy flinched.
Then—slowly—he leaned back into her.
Not much.
Just enough to say he was still here.
Around them, lights began to flicker between the trees.
Small.
Soft.
Green-gold.
Forest sprites.
They circled Derpy and Lewd like curious fireflies.
The air warmed.
The cuts on Lewd’s hands eased.
The bruising in Derpy’s ribs softened.
Even the tight panic in Lewd’s chest loosened by a fraction.
The sprites hummed.
Not words.
A resonance.
A blessing.
Derpy stared at his hands.
At the bracelets.
At the new wings that shifted under torn fabric.
And for the first time since waking, his voice came out honest.
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
But Celica’s laughter echoed in the back of his mind anyway.
Sooner than you think.